I am stretched on your grave, and you'll find meThere always, If I had bounty of your arms IShould never leave you. Little apple, myBeloved, it is time for me to lay with you, ThereIs the cold smell of clay on me, the tan of theSun and the wind. There is a lock on my heart,Which is filled with love for you, And melancholyBeneath it as black as the sloes. If anythingHappens to me, and death overthrows me, IShall become a fairy wind-gust down on theMeadows before you. When my family thinksThat I'm in my bed, It is on your grave I amStretched from night till morning, Telling myDistress and lamenting bitterly For my quietLovely girl who was bethrothed to me as a child.Do you remember the nights when you and IWere under the blackthorn tree, And the nightFreezing? A hundred praises to gods that we didNothing harmful, And your crown of maidenhoodIs a tree of light before you! The priests and theMonks every day were angry with me For beingIn love with you, young girl, when you are dead.I would be a shelter from the wind for you AndProtection from the rain for you; And oh, keenSorrow to my heart that you are under theEarth!